Second Chances
by Jemi Obsessed
Summary: They broke up. She turned goth, he became nonexistent. Good thing second chances do exist. Smitchie


**a/n: Important note at the end. Hope you enjoy!**

SECOND CHANCES

"We should break up."

Four words. Fifteen letters. One sentence that made your whole world come crashing down.

Shane Gray was your first boyfriend, your first love. Sure, he had his quirks, but he was still gentle and kind, a person you weren't afraid of bringing home to your parents. Yet he stood in front of you that day, telling you it was over without an explanation.

Tears gathered in your eyes, a sick feeling erupted in your stomach. "What? We were fine yesterday, Shane. What happened?"

You swear that a flicker of sadness came across his eyes, but he remained tall, kissing your cheek and walking away after telling you softly that he couldn't do it anymore.

"Do what?" you whispered as he had walked away, head still held high.

You had wanted to scream, to get back at him, but those thoughts were just foolish lies. The next day you cried in your apartment, eating nothing but cheerios. His favorite snack. It wasn't like you, letting depression and anxiety in. Letting the time fly by without even caring. But somehow you had.

Now, as you sit in your small apartment three months later, you mentally slap yourself for being so stupid. He was your first boyfriend. You should have known it was coming. First relationships never last. Silly old you had thought that Shane was different. Guess not.

Everybody says going through a breakup with your first love is horrible, practically a tragedy, a blow to the heart. You wonder if those people had ever even broken up with their first love. It wasn't horrible; it was scary. It wasn't a tragedy; it was a twist of fate. It wasn't a blow to the heart; it was your heart getting ripped out.

It was also an anti-confidence bomb that blew up in your face.

You aren't the old bubbly, bright and happy Mitchie anymore, you're a goth girl. Wearing black everything, including your hair, seems to be pretty in style on your street. Maybe because you and everyone else who live here are broken souls with nothing else to turn to besides voodoo.

Your friends don't even come around anymore. Honestly, you don't care. They were just territory that came along with Shane, so you are better off without them. Besides, their happy and bright smiles would probably ruin your angry streak.

You laugh icily, not even smiling. Was Shane off with another girl by now? Was he flirting endlessly with the females throwing themselves at him and his superficial career?

You tell yourself that you don't care, but deep down inside, you still have feelings for him. If he were to walk right through your door any second, you'd have a hard time not smiling. The old Mitchie inside your brain is screaming at you to talk to someone. You are incredibly lonely, and you suddenly wish that you could at least have one of your neighbors come and talk to you for just a little while.

The doorbell rings.

Really? If you only had one wish, that's what you wasted it on? A stupid neighbor to neighbor conversation? Peachy.

You sigh and walk towards the door, your eyes immediately widening in surprise, a smile threatening to take over your face.

You tame the wild smile, and scowl instead. "What do you want, Shane?"

God, he looks gorgeous. His hair is straight again, and he's back to wearing those tight skinny jeans. He seems to have noticed the trend on the block, because along with his pants, he is wearing a black polo shirt, popped collar. It takes everything you have not to jump him.

He smiles sadly, and you notice the sadness reach his eyes. "Mitchie, I didn't mean it. I…thought you would be better off without me. I was insecure of myself, I felt like you were too good for me. But…I realize now that…you complete me, you help make me…me." He looks at you hopefully, nervousness practically sweating down his face.

You don't know what to say. So you turn to your angry front. "That's sweet, Shane. But really, you made me pretty insecure of myself when you left here, and now you come back thinking I'll take you back because you feel bad about yourself too? I love you, Shane, I really do, but I don't want you hurting me again. It just…" You trail off, deciding to not share the thoughts inside your head.

He nods and pulls you close, and instead of tensing, you automatically feel at ease in his arms.

"I won't hurt you baby, not again. I promise."

And for the first time in three months, you smile.

Maybe some first loves really do last.

Thanks to second chances.

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**a/n: Hey everyone. I wrote this a while ago, it was supposed to be a collaboration, but the other person, whom I shall not name, recently lost her mom. I will be praying for her family, and I hope you will too. Please review. xoxo **


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